Epilogue — The Copernican System’s many “confirmation flops” — a brief historical memento

Only a few centuries ago, scientists and astronomers all over the world were engaging in vivid, bitter and passionate battles in the quest for the exact most plausible “cosmo-logical” configuration of our solar system. What people tend to forget is precisely what, at the time, was at stake. Mind you, it was likely a largely unspoken truism even back then, but what truly was imperilled was no less than the very survival of the (already widely-embraced) Copernican model — its credibility as the “end-all” of all cosmic models.

Countless experiments were being feverishly carried out, one more intricate than the other, yet all of them shared the same objective: to scientifically verify and establish beyond reasonable doubt that Earth was hurtling around space at the staggering, hypersonic speed of 107.000+ km/h as contended by the Copernican, heliocentric theory. It was a most extraordinary claim yet, one that had to be scientifically verified. Failure was not an option for its illustrious proponents.

Yet today, the most infamous experiment of them all — the Michelson-Morley interferometer study — is billed as the “greatest failed scientific experiment of all time”. Mind you, it really doesn’t deserve to be singled out for having fallen short of proving Copernicus right; it is a matter of historical record that the totality of numerous other similar experiments — embarrassingly enough — utterly and completely failed to prove Earth’s purported, hypersonic orbital motion around the Sun. Despite designs to prove heliocentrism, experimental data continued to tell us what we refused to hear.

One may say that the Copernican model’s upside-down heliocentric view has mesmerized humanity for the last four centuries or so, if not just as an opposition to geocentrism. However, the violent refutation of one inadequate theory for another ignited along its way the Mother of all circular debates among the sharpest minds of this planet. Those debates were, essentially, destined to fail so long as our sacrosanct, universally-worshipped science priesthood remained unchallenged about their unshakeable heliocentric convictions.

Another intense series of experiments were those attempting to observe and quantify the so-called “stellar parallax”. Of course, this was also understandably a crucial test for the Copernican model: if no stellar parallax whatsoever could be detected, then the Copernican theory had to be categorically discarded. Instead, after decades of painstaking, feverish efforts by eminent astronomers around the world, some minute/microscopic stellar parallax was finally detected. Incredibly enough (and here’s when one must question the intellectual honesty & integrity of the world’s scientific community), those infinitesimal star displacements were deemed sufficient to prove that Earth moves at hypersonic speeds around space — completing an almost 1-billion-km-long (and 300 Mkm-wide) orbit every year!

Of course, the official explanation offered by apologists for this near-zero stellar parallax was that “the stars are far, far, far more distant than anyone had ever imagined!” Amazingly, it has never occurred to anyone that, since some stars are claimed to be “only” 4 or 5 light years away — while other stars (visually adjacent to those closer stars) are claimed to be some 2600 light years away (or more) — we should most definitely be able to detect some quite substantial parallax between such closer and much more distant stars (that is, if Earth were revolving around the Sun along a 300 Mkm-wide orbit). The TYCHOS model — with its 1 mph earthly motion — provides a plain, intuitively sound and logical solution to this age-old riddle: The observed stellar parallaxes are so very, very small simply because our old Mother Earth moves very little each year, and slower than the pace of an evening walk around the village.

To be sure, still today, no one really knows exactly how distant the stars are. Just consider that previously-mentioned, quite recent (2012) science journal’s announcement: “A scientific astronomy-study has determined that Polaris, our North Star, is approximately 1/3 closer to Earth than previously thought.” So much for the much-vaunted “pinpoint accuracy” of astronomical data! You may agree that this is an almost comical correction of such a “long-established” cosmic distance. If our world’s scientific/astronomical community cannot even agree on such a fundamental measurement (the Earth-Polaris distance), what credibility can any other claimed stellar distances possibly retain?

Perhaps the most tragicomical instance of cosmic science-quackery is Arthur Eddington’s solar eclipse experiment in 1919. At the time, the fundamental tenets of both the Copernican and the Newtonian theories were perilously at stake, since the observed orbital behaviour of Mercury “refused” to comply with Newton’s Laws. So the Royal Society dispatched Sir Eddington to Gabon, Africa — and another team to South America — to photograph an upcoming solar eclipse. Arthur’s expedition almost ended in dire disaster, as the skies were cloudy most of the time, yet his team somehow managed to snap a couple of (blurry) shots of the eclipse. The South American team did better and brought home a few half-decent shots of the 1919 solar eclipse.

Now, the whole point of the exercise was to confirm the validity of a young upstart scientist’s thesis, namely the “theory of relativity”. The then little-known Albert Einstein had “come to the rescue” of both Newton’s and Copernicus’ endangered theories, basically stating that, “The light emitted by a celestial body will bend / warp — in the vicinity of a large mass such as the Sun.” In other words, “You can’t trust what you see with your own eyes; Mercury may seem to be where you see it but in reality it is elsewhere!” To make a long story short, even though the photographic plates snapped by the two Royal Society teams presented conflicting and utterly inconclusive data, Sir Eddington somehow managed to pass them off as “definitive/irrefutable proof of Einstein’s relativity theory”! Einstein henceforth became, overnight, the universally-acclaimed celebrity that he still is today.

Another droll, contrived effort aimed at confirming the Copernican model was that of James Bradley, the man who invented the so-called “aberration of light” — or “stellar aberration” as mentioned in Chapter 34. Bradley had been observing the motions of star Draconis for several months with a telescope mounted in his home’s chimney — near London. As we have seen, his observations of Draconis’ (and all the other stars’) seasonal motions turned out to be totally conflicting with the predictions of the Copernican model. Yet, instead of bringing into question the Copernican theory’s core tenets (and returning to the drawing board — as any earnest scientist would have done), Bradley concocted the most contorted astronomical theory of them all, namely the “Aberration of Light”. Amazingly, Bradley’s farcical “solution” is still held by academia as the “conclusive proof of the heliocentric Copernican model”. All in all, we may conclude that the Copernican theory has benefited, over the last centuries, from a steady flow of “confirmation bias” (the very opposite notion of what is known as the scientific method).

And so, here we are today. The Copernican theory is safely shielded in its unassailable ivory tower — unquestioned by almost everyone. Curiously, the long string of embarrassing failures to confirm the tenets of the Copernican model have faded away from public memory, or been erased by deliberate efforts. Having inexplicably failed to rattle the near-universal acceptance of the same, this world’s scientific community has evidently long canonized the “Universal Laws” promulgated by the sacrosanct Cosmic Quartet (Newton, Copernicus, Galileo & Kepler) and their modern-day court-jester Albert Einstein (the man who warped space), in what amounts to a seemingly dogmatic acceptance — a religious submission — to the claims of those universally-celebrated Gods of Science.

I personally nurture no illusions that my TYCHOS model will become widely-accepted by the “old-guard” within my lifetime (although I am fully satisfied of the validity of its core, fundamental principles). The official scientific intelligentsia of this planet has shown, time and again, an obstinate resistance to revise, update and correct the long-established cosmological knowledge taught to our children. I will just keep hoping that reason will prevail. If not, there is nothing I can do about it — and you may happily keep circling around the Sun (at hypersonic speeds) to your heart’s content. May everyone in this world be as satisfied with her/his beliefs (as to the configuration of our “Solar System”) as I am. I wish a happy life to all of my readers — whatever their “cosmo-logical” convictions may be.

As pompous as these conclusive thoughts of mine may sound, I finally submit that my TYCHOS model provides a long-needed reality check in matters astronomical. I hope that it may herald a resplendent new era of peaceful and open data collection, examination and inquiry. The TYCHOS, I dare say, is the most congruent interpretation ever made of the vast body of literature documenting centuries of painstaking astronomical studies. My highest respect goes to those patient astronomers who dedicated their lives to gather an inestimable wealth of empirical observations for humanity’s sake, some of whom at the cost of their lives at the hands of various ruthless establishments. Let us remember our collective accomplishments well; and perhaps, before the end of another Great Year, humankind will have relegated such ignorant violence to history and legend. May coming generations thrive in the blissful serenity of our planet as it gently sails within the Sun-Mars binary system — at the safe and sensible speed of 1 mph.

I will leave you to meditate on this old & wise Italian adage:

“Chi va piano va sano — e va lontano.”
(Those who go slowly go safely — and go far.)

Peace to all.

Simon Shack

Previous Chapter

Appendix I